


feel the sway beneath our feet

by proserpinasacra



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proserpinasacra/pseuds/proserpinasacra
Summary: Caleb is staring at the silver embroidery around his wrist with unfocused eyes and anxiously counting all the ways this could so easily fall apart when he hears a close ruffle of chiffon followed by the signature intake of breath that typically precedes the most utterly absurd yet brilliantly creative plans possible."Now is a good time for a second dance, I think."(caleb and jester find the time for another waltz)
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 10
Kudos: 159





	feel the sway beneath our feet

Caleb is trembling. His fingers have gone numb with the cocktail-firebomb of revelations- of betrayal, of understanding, of forgiveness; conversely, his end of the conversation with Essek wrung him out, leaving a resounding hollowness in his chest. All of him, especially his hands: numb, but scrambling for purchase. There is still a party in progress, one they were widely known to be at, and he clocks the exact moment Jester realizes they simply can not leave her mother there as a stricken look passes over her expressive features. Perhaps because he was already glancing at her in the tense aftermath of Nott's declaration and the subsequent chorus of agreement from everyone else. Perhaps because he sensed her uneasiness. Either way.

He gestures to Essek, looking as himself and guarded and hunched but with wary surprise slipping through the cracks. "Come. You must keep your cover and we must return as well. We would not want to leave the Ruby of the Sea adrift, as it were."

Tension seeps from Jester's shoulders; he takes the briefest measure of solace from that. There are things they can deal with now. Everything else must wait. 

The tromp back is subdued, with Essek slipping off to presumably make his own separate entrance in a subtler manner than they themselves are capable of. By the time they've regained their places mingling, Caleb's sunk into the desperate abyss of backtracking through every hint and scrap of information that led to this point, cycling through months of chaos and subterfuge over and over and over and over. He's staring at the silver embroidery around his wrist with unfocused eyes and anxiously counting all the ways this could so easily fall apart when he hears a close ruffle of chiffon followed by the signature intake of breath that typically precedes the most utterly absurd yet brilliantly creative plans possible.

"Now is a good time for a second dance, I think." 

Caleb glances at Jester, and he's already squirming with the cold shock that brought him. She's lit all around by arcane candlelight here in his secluded corner. It makes the edges of her dress glow otherworldly and lights the curve of her cheeks just enough he could count her freckles as he so wished. Her bodice is fitted distractingly tight, outlining the curve of her hips before flaring into layers and layers of a delicate nearly-sheer fabric. She would like being spun in it, to watch it flare, he thinks. The powdered gems inlaid in her tattoo glitter faintly at her shoulders, her collarbone, and lower still, above the sweetheart neck of her gown where the pale pink contrasts with- he makes himself begin speaking. "Oh, Jester, I..." 

"You were really kinda drunk for the first one, but even then it was nice until- and we are at a fancy party and I look very pretty and you look very handsome and things are probably going to be probably very stressful tomorrow and so-" She draws out the 'o' with her painted lips pursed in a perfect circle and leans dreadfully closer before saying the rest all in a rush. "I think you should dance with me."

He is not a good man. Nor is he a strong enough man to say no to Jester Lavorre when she pins him with those pleading violet eyes. 

"Ja." The single syllable confirmation wrenches itself from his lips before he can stop it. His head tips down. "If you'd like." 

Her nose scrunches with her incredulous expression, and it's endlessly endearing. "Well of course I'd like, silly, it'd be dumb to ask if I didn't."

His chuckle is a breath that barely counts for one, but she beams as if she's won something from him, and wastes no time slotting herself into his arms and when Caleb's fool brain has caught up, he has one of her hands in his and the other settled on her shoulder blade. Her dress cuts low enough in the back that most of his leading hand is on bare skin. As if it hadn't already, the sensation rushes back to his hands with a vengeance. He's so hypersensitive now that he can feel the callouses on her fingers from holding her shield, and every minute twitch of her strong back muscles under her warmer-than-human skin. 

Jester tugs him out of the corner by walking backwards, apparently trusting him to guide her around the hapless other partygoers. He does, tilting her trajectory gently when needed while otherwise following along until they've reached a spot where she must deem the lighting and acoustics to be the best. Because then they're dancing.

He's steady enough to keep up the lead this time, though his first forward-side-together is hesitant and uncertain. It is, quite honestly, a bit of a lot to be holding Jester and looking at her glittering and smiling up at him in addition to everything the night has already put into his head. But she's light on her feet and cheerily enthusiastic, and after a full revolution, they're falling, synchronized, into the easy drift of a waltz. 

This is what they can do now. Everything else can wait. Caleb does not think of future plans or worries; he lets the focus of twirling Jester around and watching her glowing expression crowd everything else out of mind. It's simpler, with her.

Caleb wants a little too badly for the dance to continue on into forever. He clears his throat, speaks up. "Can I spin you, Jester? I think this pretty dress of yours is very well-suited to such a thing."

Her face lights up brilliantly, outshining every arcane torch in the room. Though her high, lilting voice pierces through the din, he still must hunch forward to hear her properly, and he feels he must look somewhat silly, all black cloak and curling around the little luminescent pink and blue tiefling, but he doesn't quite care either. "Ohhh, yes, yes! But! You better not let go and let me go spinning out into someone 'cause I'll probably knock them over and then momma might see and think we are starting fights here, too." 

He looks at her solemnly, and gives her hand a slight squeeze in his. "I would not dare dream of letting you go, Jester." 

Her face scrunches up delightfully with her mischievous grin. "I know. I just kinda wanted to hear you say so."

Caleb feels his cheeks burn, but it doesn't dissuade him from dipping his head in a nod, and feeling the slight tug at the corners of his lips. "Ah. Well. If you ever want to hear so from me again, all you must do is ask… would you like to be speedier, while we are at it? For better twirl power?"

The gleam of chaos that takes over her face is answer enough, even before she starts nodding hard enough to jostle her curls. He must pull one hand off her a moment to rummage through his coat, but procures the licorice root and casts, then she darts back into the waltz hold with a vibrating intensity.

"ThisisgoingtobesogoodCalebohyesjustdon'tforgetnottoletgoooo!" She's practically leading from the follow now and he chuckles, giving them two revolutions of him rushing to keep up before he squeezes her hand then sends her out in a grand underarm twirl. The first is tentative, though fast anyway, then she shoots him a grin, confident they've got it, and begins twirling in earnest. 

Their hands twist around each other but never disconnect, even as she purposefully builds up momentum with unbridled laughter. She's spinning wildly, almost a blur, decidedly faster than naturally possible, and her skirt flares out in tiers of fluffy pink with the barest flash of blue legs beneath that he decidedly does not look at. It's almost dizzying to keep a hold of, but Caleb doesn't waver. Jester's spinning and spinning, cackling contagiously, and every bit the force of nature he knows her to be. They must have the attention of others, for the music increases to match her manic tempo, but he dares not look away.

Eventually she wobbles, a hitch in their rhythm, and he feels the precarious moment when she almost slips out of control. Before she can tip over, he grips her hand tight and snaps her away in an outside spin then tugs her back towards him.

On the return spin, she lets her momentum carry her with only his hand as an anchor, and she spins and spins and does not stop until she collides solidly into his chest with a squeak. They stumble back a step together; he bows forward and catches her with his free arm across her back, cradling around her there as they manage to stabilize and as they both laugh, unreserved and bubbling and swaying to the music. Her gasping, giggling breaths jump like a butterfly against his chest, a counterpoint to his rapid beating heart. The minute of haste ends and she slumps gently, but doesn't stop laughing, only leans more of her weight against him. He runs his thumb along the last strip of skin above the back of her dress, perfectly happy to support her as she needs.

Their laughter fades out slow and natural. Caleb can smell the sweet vanilla of her hair wash where his cheek brushes against the top of her head, gratefully avoiding being skewered by either of her horns. "You did wonderfully tonight. I am beginning to be thinking we are not so bad at this after all. Things could have gone far worse."

He feels the brief tense and relaxation before she speaks. "I didn't know Nott was going to do that, I maybe freaked out just a little bit… but you were very fast with those handcuffs, Caleb. Very, very fast, do you have a lot of practice?"

He does not know what to do with the sudden question, and answers honestly. "Those I have not used since we first acquired them, no."

"No, I meant-" She breaks into snickers, then shakes her head jerkily. "Nevermind, I… really don't hope you think you're still damned, Caleb. Because you for sure have the blessing of the Traveler, and I know definitely that you're actually really great."

"Ah..." He finds himself at a brief loss, apparently he used all his words earlier, and almost pulls back, except for the moment he twitches to do so, he feels her grip tighten fractionally. Not enough to genuinely restrain him, which he was certain she could do, but enough to be a clear question not to. He acquiesces, and muddles through a real answer. "It is hard not to think that, but I know you… that all of you have changed me, and for the better. As I said."

"It is the magic of opening your heart!" Jester singsongs, but then pulls away enough to peer up at him. He thinks he's never seen anything in his life as intensely sincere as the look in her violet eyes in this moment. "You've changed me, too, you know. It's not just a one sided kinda thing."

Caleb may be trembling again, in a wholly different way than earlier. "Then I hope that is for the best, too. You deserve only the best."

"It is. It's really something new entirely. But very, very good." There's a look on her face that is many things at once. A tentative hopeful thing with knowledge and giddiness all together. He is enraptured, yet he knows also he really must leave. He begins to search for the desire to match that knowing when she perks up with a sudden chaotic light in her eyes. It is a very familiar sight, and he finds the curiosity to hear her next words overwhelming the need to leave. "Can you show me a Zemnian dance?"

Ah. Expected unexpectedness. "I don't know if-"

"Please, Caleb?" She widens her eyes, and he can feel the sway as she pushes up on her toes and leans against him.

He feels a smile creep onto his face without his permission, the hesitant slow sort she wrests so effortlessly from him. And then it's a feedback loop as her own grows wider and he's pulled relentlessly along. This time is a conscious agreement. He would indeed like to share something else pleasant with her. "Ja. I will try to show you a dance, Blueberry."


End file.
